


Creatively Satisfied

by Cinlat



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Sexual Humor, Shameless Smut, the trials of recovery, trial and error
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 03:50:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15088382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinlat/pseuds/Cinlat
Summary: It's been months since Fynta received her new leg, and she's stayed true to her promise to follow Dorne's directive ineveryaspect of her healing. Near the end of her recovery, Fynta and Jorgan decide to take one particular aspect of their relationship into their own hands, and once started, Fynta refuses to admit defeat.





	Creatively Satisfied

**Author's Note:**

> I feel that, especially in sci-fi, we tend to forget about the trials that come with drastic injuries. Even with advanced healing. There is plenty of room for angst about the physical and mental damage of such an injury, but the simple, day to day tasks that have to be altered in order to accommodate a new way of moving often gets overlooked. I wanted to show a glimpse of that struggle in a humorous, light-hearted fashion.

**Outer Rim  
** **Fueling Station**  

Jorgan opened the door to the hotel room, eyes focused on their latest mission report. He always added the details that Fynta left out, wondering if she’d ever move past her SIS days where the less said about an op, the safer her position. Fynta summarized, and Aric felt that command deserved to know even the unimportant facts.

When Jorgan looked up, he found himself in an empty room. Only then did he note the sound of running water from the refresher. Havoc Squad was grounded for the next twenty-seven hours for standard maintenance and refueling. During times like these, the Republic offered free lodging to soldiers. They weren’t the worst Jorgan had stayed in, but it was no luxury suite either. Fynta no longer bothered with the separate room ploy. They’d learned some time ago that no one paid attention to who slept where. Though, she claimed that if anyone asked, she’d point out that Vik and Yuun had bunked up, then snickered at the insinuation.

Aric decided to surprise his wife by joining her in the shower. He stripped off his uniform, laying it neatly over the bed, and crept into the refresher. Fynta spent longer under the hot water these days, admitting that it soothed her aching hip. While Jorgan tended towards quicker bathing rituals, he’d always enjoyed her company. Fynta was less guarded in the safety of a shower. He didn’t understand why, but they’d had almost as many heart to hearts in steamy refreshers as on the bridge of the Thunderclap.

Jorgan slipped through the door, intent on taking his wife by surprise. Fynta faced the wall, her body clearly visible through the glass door. Aric watched the muscles in her back flex as she piled a substantial amount of hair on top of her head to scrub the soap in. The water beaded in smooth streams down her silver leg, drawing his eyes over the flesh that connected it to her hip. In the rare moments when he could, Jorgan admired the way the metal glowed against her tan skin.

The Cathar let his gaze roam higher, over the swell of Fynta’s backside, the dip in her waist, to the toned arms of a warrior. Jorgan didn’t realize that he’d vocalized a growl of desire until Fynta looked over her shoulder with an impish smirk. “Hey there, soldier,” she crooned. “Want to join me?” Her eyes slid over his body, growing darker as they traveled lower. Aric hadn’t realized how hard he’d become until Fynta chuckled and flicked her gaze back to his. “Or should we wait until the water cools?”

Giving himself a shake, Jorgan climbed into the shower stall with her. “Very funny.” Fynta ground against him, the softness of her skin sent a jolt through his body. He put his hands on her hips to hold them still and leaned forward to nip at her ear. “Careful,” he warned in a husky voice. “You don’t want to start something you can’t finish.” Fynta still hadn’t been cleared for sex, not that she hadn’t badgered Dorne about it for the last two weeks.

Fynta trembled as Aric slid his hands around her waist, letting one drop low enough to brush against that sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her legs. “Har’chaak,” Fynta hissed, bucking her hips backward. Jorgan chuckled. Just because intercourse was out of the question didn’t mean that they hadn’t found other ways to scratch those itches.

Turning to face him, Fynta crushed her mouth to Aric’s. Her fingers twined behind his head, legs straddling his thigh. The contrast of texture was maddening, making his body vibrate at the slightest touch. It had taken Fynta longer than anticipated to regain her libido, then, it had returned so forcefully that Jorgan worried that he might not be able to keep up.

“I need you, Aric,” Fynta whispered against his lips. When he slid his hand around, she batted it away. “No more substitutes.”

Jorgan’s mouth went dry despite the water running over his face. He pulled back to look Fynta in the eye. “Has Elara cleared you?” He hated the worry in his voice, even more so when Fynta’s expression hardened.

Heaving a sigh, Fynta switched the water off and gave Jorgan an incredulous look. “You want to go knock on her door?” Taking advantage of his stunned silence, Fynta shoved Aric out of the shower stall. Jorgan’s feet slipped on the tile, and Fynta chased after him, keeping the Cathar off balance until they reached the cheaply carpeted floors.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jorgan asked in a last-ditch effort to make Fynta see reason before he gave in completely. Hands and mouths could only go so far, and Aric ached at the thought of finally delving into her warmth again. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The backs of Jorgan’s knees hit the mattress a second before he tumbled onto it. Fynta leaned forward, resting her hands on his thighs. With a coy smile on lips that he couldn’t take his eyes off of, Fynta’s fingers slid higher until she had him in a firm grip. Jorgan groaned when her hand slid up his length, thumb circling over the head, then down again in criminally slow strokes.

“It _feels_ like a good idea,” Fynta breathed. Aric put all of his will into what he hoped was a stern expression. Fynta’s smile grew. “I promise to tell you if we need to stop.”

“Good enough for me.” Jorgan grabbed Fynta’s wrists and jerked her forward until she was stretched out over his body. Her stomach pressed against his erection, each breath providing new sensations. Fynta resumed the heated kiss from their shower. Aric pushed against her shoulders, failing at getting her attention until he mumbled against her mouth. “We need to take it slow.”

Fynta huffed and pushed onto her elbows to pout down at him. “I hate slow.”

Jorgan flipped them both, wringing a startled gasp from his wife, and chuckled into her neck. “I bet I can change your mind.” Truth be told, slow had never been his favorite either, but he’d learned over the years. Most females seemed to enjoy a gradual build more than instant gratification. Granted, Fynta wasn’t most females.

Wiggling beneath him, Fynta captured Aric’s thighs with her natural leg. “Go on, then. Convince me, _riduur_.” She accented the word with a roll of her hips, bringing him temporarily into contact with a warmth that he hadn’t experienced in far too long.

Jorgan growled, scraping his teeth along Fynta’s collarbone. “How’s your flexibility?” The skin that connected to her prosthetic leg still pulled when she sat wrong or took too large a step. He knew it would hinder their actions here. If anything, Fynta would need to be on top, just to ensure Jorgan didn’t get too rough.

Fynta huffed, her breath ruffling the hair that spilled over her forehead. “Not great.” She bent her left leg, trying to flex it away from her body. “That’s all I can do for now.”

The Cathar shifted his weight and gave an experimental push with his hips. As much as it pained him to agree, there simply wasn’t enough give for this position. “Want to try with you on top?”

A lascivious grin split Fynta’s face as Jorgan flopped onto his back. “We have always had amazing luck with this position,” she remarked as she climbed on top of him.

Jorgan let his hands rest on her thighs while Fynta positioned him. He flexed his fingers, focusing on the differences between cool metal and warm skin as a distraction from what she was doing to him. Aric watched his wife sink lower, breath hitching when he felt her warmth against his tip. Fynta placed her hands on Jorgan’s chest and rocked her hips, but didn’t descend further. “Fierfek,” she hissed. “That’s as far as I can go.”

Jorgan groaned and dropped his head onto the mattress. “You’re kidding.” Fynta wiggled her hips and even bounced on her knees. Sure enough, there was no give. Jorgan couldn’t help but laugh at the audacity of their situation.

Fynta’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not giving up yet, soldier. Havoc squad doesn’t back down from a challenge.” Jorgan smiled at his stubborn wife while she glanced around the room. “Shame the shower is a stall instead of a curtain.”

Jorgan quirked an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know why?”

Fynta looked down at with a grin. “Leverage, of course.”

The imagine of Fynta hanging from a curtain rod with her legs wrapped around his waist came unbidden and pulled another bout of laughter from the Cathar. “Then we’d have to explain to the Republic Quartermaster how we broke the shower.”

“But, it would be worth it,” Fynta responded, holding up a finger to ensure he understood that she’d been completely serious.

Jorgan patted Fynta’s good leg. “Hop off for a second.” Fynta sighed with flourish, but obliged. The Cathar sat up to consider their surroundings. Their differences in height made standing out of the question. He could attempt to push her against the wall and wrap a leg around him, but that required lifting. Jorgan disregarded that idea too, he wouldn’t risk putting that much pressure on her hip yet.

“We need to remove the flexibility factor,” Jorgan remarked absently, sliding to the edge of the bed.

Fynta leaned forward, still on her knees, to prop her chin on Aric’s shoulder. “Ah yes, what every girl wants. To have her love life approached like an op.” Jorgan shot her a flat look and Fynta raised her hands. “Alright. What’s your plan of attack? Because dammit, I’m not leaving here until we figure something out.”

Aric chuckled. “Turn over.”

This time, it was Fynta’s brow that shot up. “What?”

Jorgan smacked Fynta’s leg and pushed against her hip. “You heard me.” She was already on her knees after all. It was such a simple solution that he didn’t know why neither of them had considered it before.

Realization flashed across Fynta’s face, and her eyes lit with a mischievous glint. “Getting in touch with your inner animal, Aric Jorgan?”

The Cathar growled and gave her thigh a disciplinary smack. “That happened when you entered my life.” Fynta gave a light laugh and wiggled her hips, while Jorgan admired the view of his wife open before him.

Fynta looked over her shoulder when Aric placed his hands on her back to edge closer. After so much build up, the Cathar was sure something would go wrong. It didn’t, and he slid smoothly inside of her. Jorgan took a deep breath, steadying himself against the onslaught of sensations that threatened to blot out the rest of the world. Fynta’s inner walls gripped and pulled at him as she fidgeted, anxious for more. Her muscles twitched under his fingers, causing renewed heat to burn through his body.

Jorgan exhaled in a single puff, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Fynta’s shoulder. “Damn, I’ve missed this.” Fynta’s murmur of agreement encouraged him deeper.

Impatient as ever, Fynta rolled her hips, and Jorgan rumbled another growl at the sharp spike in pleasure. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he slid long fingers between Fynta’s legs to fondle her while he thrust at an excruciatingly slow pace. She moaned and ground against him, then swore under her breath. Jorgan took the hint to make his next thrust harder. Fynta gasped and threw her head back so fast that she nearly cracked him in the mouth.

Jorgan pressed harder with his fingers, panting with the strain of holding back his release until Fynta found hers. She muttered an unintelligible string of Mando’a, then called out Aric’s name and stilled in his grasp. Fynta didn’t breathe for a solid three seconds, her teeth clenched and body quivering under him. The moment passed with an airy gasp, high and on the verge of laughter.

That sound drove Jorgan over the edge. He pulled out, almost too far, before slamming back in with more force than intended. Fynta worked her hips, drawing his release out longer than he thought possible. The world buzzed with the blood pumping through his ears until there was nothing left.

Energy sapped, Jorgan leaned over Fynta to braced himself on shaking arms. She slid her legs between his until she was flat on her stomach, and Jorgan was forced to follow by their connection. They lay panting, him enjoying the warmth of his wife while trying not to crush her.

“Hmmm,” Fynta hummed. With arms stretched above her head, she snuggled deeper into the mattress. “I think that’ll do just fine.”

Aric kissed the back of Fynta’s neck, then slid his hand over her left hip. When she didn’t flinch or indicate that it hurt, he smiled. “And, we don’t even need Dorne’s approval.”


End file.
